


Too Much at Home

by everythingmurky



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11563281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingmurky/pseuds/everythingmurky
Summary: Miller might be more comfortable in Hardy's home than he's comfortable with.





	Too Much at Home

**Author's Note:**

> So I am posting this thing I tried to do when I was doing my drabbles. It was too long, and I couldn't cut it down to drabble length. I had almost forgotten about it, but I remembered today, and so I looked it over, said... "I'll try posting it in spite of myself."
> 
> Because... well, I think Doctor Who's new direction has gone and killed my inspiration for my crossover for good. :( 
> 
> So I don't know if this is funny or not, I tried to be, but I was having a hard time during the drabbling thing, and as I said, the news did not make me feel like I could write on the story I need to finish, which clouds things for new stuff, too.

* * *

Hardy rounded the corner and stopped, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He'd been at horrific crime scenes before, he'd seen his career and marriage disintegrate with a single admission, and he'd almost lost his health just about the same time, but this... this was a whole different level of disconcerting.

Miller was doing laundry.

In his home.

“What do you think you're doing?”

She jumped. “Bloody hell, sir. I think I miss the days when you were so half dead you sounded like a walking corpse wherever you shuffled your feet to. You just took years off my life.”

“Miller.”

She sighed. “My machine broke, and we're always here working cases anyway, and Daisy said she didn't care if I used them for the day and you'd never know because you don't even know what the machine's for, so I stopped by to get some done before work.”

Hardy blinked. “And that's supposed to explain what you're currently wearing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I couldn't rightly wash my work suit without washing the trousers.”

“Miller,” Hardy said, not sure how she could have possibly missed the point he was trying to make. “You're in my home. In your... pants.”

She looked down and then back at him with a shrug. “Oh. So I am.”


End file.
